Seven Deadly Sins
by Mynt Mint
Summary: In today's society, the Devil embodies seven of his qualities with those he deems fit to do his bidding. How will the Glee Club adhere to their new influences, and remove those who are good from disturbing their masters chain?
1. Chapter 1

This is just a short prologue, chapters will be much longer. I edited the old one because I hated it, Review with your thoughts :) !

* * *

Humans are disgusting, even by my standards. Mortal vessels corrupted by greed, at best.

That's what I love about them.

They are so easy to manipulate. So easy to twist. The Good Lord himself created a bountiful environment of goodness in every direction, but just a sliver of hatred is enough to wilt an atmosphere into cataclysmic destruction. No matter how hard he tries, I can always bring someone to my side. He even thought of dogs. Any human that can be evil when there are dogs in the world is a lost man. So I take these lost men, rip out their souls and bring them to hell, here with me, leaving their shell on Earth, completely undebauched and normal for all anyone else knows. Another great thing about mortals, I should mention - their supernatural oblivity. It makes my job so much easier.

They pretty much invite me to steal their souls and use what remains to make this world my own. And I plan to do that, just like I have in the past. My inclinations have influenced many people to commit heinous deeds.

Suicide.

Homicide.

Genocide.

Whenever a suburban mother gasps at the news, thinking how anyone could muster enough evil to commit such dreadful sins, you can be sure it wasn't their fault. Not at all. It was mostly me. Of course, I don't take full credit. Every human has the capability for these great acts. It's just that they can get blindsided by their conscience. That's where I come in – I merely assist in… letting people give into urges they wouldn't ever dream of, because morality would always hold them back.

I don't possess children, though. That's a rule. Not because they are hard to manifest or anything (it's quite the opposite). But they are of little use, and sometimes worried parents catch on. When a breastfeeding mother's nipples start to bleed, they start to get suspicious. It caused plenty of prayers and rituals, harshly affecting my process. On the other hand, adults are super easy – they are exposed to many factors that could cause them to turn without my help – money, fame, power, sex. I just cajole them a little. But I have reinforced plenty of grownups by now, and progress is smooth, but not swift. Leaving a bit of leeway to experiment.

I want to try possessing teenagers.

If children are too hard, and adults too easy, then teenagers should be at the stage of pubescence to be a great asset in my domination. Their mere adolescence cements an expectation of rowdiness, one that they've come to embody just through the repetition of hearing it for so long. I don't think there's any harm in exaggerating that rowdiness to my proportions. There's one teenager in particular I've had my eye on for a while now.

Noah Puckerman.

I don't think he'll take much to possess. He's practically known as my advocate already. Peed in a fry-o-later at work, constantly starting fights, an all-round bully who's seething with wrath. Absolutely perfect. By morning, I shall have him overflowing with that deadly sin, and then he can spark the manifestation of myself into his wholesome glee club. And then from there… well, let's just say not even a priest could help you then.

I will end this power struggle, and the almighty God will be no match for his fallen angel.


	2. Chapter 2

**Warning:** slash

* * *

When Puck woke up Monday morning, he was in his usual shitty mood. Partly because school fucking sucked, and partly because he was possessed by the devil. Not that he knew it, though. For someone who always seemed a little demonic, he was fairly unaware of my changes. And it's not like I jumped down his throat when he was sleeping, but if you'd been occupying a body for the past sixteen years and a wraith just happened to join you in the same skin, you'd think you'd notice. It wasn't even that hard – usually there's some resistance, even from the most anarchic humans, but not this time. It was like he was waiting for me. He's been staring at his reflection in the mirror for ages, still wrapped in a towel from his shower. He stretched the bottom of his eye down with a finger, searching inside himself, somehow not noticing the new specks of red that peppered his iris. That was my mark.

He seemed to get bored of playing spot the differences with his past, so he got changed and left for school pretty quickly after that. I mean, it was already like 9:30 by the time he got there, but that's why I liked the kid.

Pucks lone footsteps echoed around the hallways. There was not a single soul in sight. His eyes wandered up to the clock on the wall, its ticks loud and clear in the silence. It was around ten. I let him go about his normal routine; avoiding half his classes in favour of nothing else. I try not to ask myself why the idiot even bothers going to school – he isn't of use to me yet. I have no need to get worked up. It shouldn't be too long, though, I just have to be patient.

It's not until his Glee club that I can get a clear map of things. I really have no idea how a person like Puck even considered joining this club, but he arrives just before he can be declared late, as usual, and takes a seat next to Sam in the back row. Now, this is where I step in, and nudge Puck's already small conscious into the dark corners of his mind and take the pole position inside his head. Sam's the new kid. They met once when he auditioned, but then Puck ran into that ATM and was sent to juvie-!

That's it. That was why the punk was so easy to possess. I can't believe I forgot that he was incarcerated, it always makes things so much easier. It's so much easier to take people who have already been declared as your spawn. People don't realize that prisons are honestly stupid. If they were isolated for rehabilitation, then I guess I wouldn't have so many helpers. But instead, they just lock away sinners, giving them no chance to repent, leaving them at the top of a downward spiral where I'm waiting at the bottom. Besides, people always assume those who have done time have done stupid things on their own merit – so this time if shit goes down then I will have a perfect back up, and there will be no suspicion on me. I laughed. This is going to be great.

"Uh, Puck?" Sam waved a hand if front of Puck's face. "You okay?"

"Huh? Oh," Puck shook his head a little, for clarity. "I'm fine, I'm fine."

"Great," Sam smiled, his front teeth peeping through his plump, pink lips. "I thought you were out of it for a second." Then, quite suddenly, he sobered, as if his whole face was weighted. His eyes stared blankly for a second, as if he remembered a reason to fear Puck, but tried to ignore it. "So, how have you been?"

"Good, man," I replied. I tucked into Puck's memory and let him answer the rest for himself. There was something off about Sam. Not only in the way he acted, but in his entirety. He seemed to glow a particular reverence, and it was quite offending. He was prim and proper and everything I quite detest, if I'm honest. Then I think Puck is finished with his recount, and he must have stopped talking again because Sam is close, looking into his eyes to check if he's had a stroke. And that's when I see it. Not the small freckles on his upper cheeks, or the small dimples he sometimes gets, but his eyes. They were speckled white. Speckled holy. It was the manifestation of God.

Fortunately, it is only the beginning stages. I know that from experience. It won't be long until his irises are completely white and he's as pure as pure can be. It's never considered a bad thing, for some reason - possession by the Lord Almighty is seen as some sort of blessing. God knows why. But since it's in the primal stages, I still have a chance to battle for this vessel. But I can't just leak into his every orifice this very second. I have to be patient. Again.

* * *

It's after Glee when I nab him. I have Puck hide in the janitor's closet, and as Sam's walking by, innocently clutching his Spanish book under him arm, Puck yanks him inside. Sam's sneakers drag along the floor, but he has this countenance that suggests he was expecting it. Puck locks the door, and invades Sam's personal space so much their noses are just inches apart. Sam tries to avoid Puck's eyes, but he's so close his only other choice is to stare at the tip of Puck's nose, willing for it to move back. Puck didn't say anything, just staring daggers.

"L-l-look," Sam said, trying not to stutter, "If this is about Quinn – I-I'm sorry. I didn't know about anything that happened at McKinley last year." He had to stop, just because Puck was staring holes into him. Puck hadn't reacted and Sam had to wonder if this was about Quinn after all. It wasn't. Sam gently reached for Puck's shoulders, trying to ease him away.

Instead, Puck grabbed him by the collar, lifting him up against the door. Sam's eyes went wide, so I guess it's safe to say he didn't expect Puck to roughly slam his mouth against his. Puck sucked Sam's lips with such fervour that it took the blond the second as he slid back to the ground to process what had happened. Puck pulled back, taking a deep breath. Sam exhaled and looked at him, fighting between expressions of lust and fear.

I could see it – in his eyes. It was going. The specks of white were dim and nearly gray. This time when Puck went in for a kiss Sam reciprocated, opening his mouth and letting Puck explore with his tongue. Puck grabbed at Sam's hair, tugging it backwards to peck at his jaw. Sam's breathing was loud, and he raked at Puck's back with his fingernails. Puck took one had off Sam's head to pinch at his nipples through the thin fabric of his shirt. Sam moaned, lunging at Puck to keep the momentum. He turned them around, pushing Puck against the door, hastily unbuttoning his shirt and letting it slide to the floor. Sam's need was coming off him in waves, with such intensity that he got his shirt stuck as he tried to lift it over his head.

Puck grew impatient, lifting it off for him and closing the space between them. The bell to signify the start of lessons rang, echoing in their confined space, but they ignored it. They slid down to the floor, Sam kicking away an empty bucket as they did so. He straddled Puck, somehow not struggling with the latches in his belt as he tore it off and slid down his jeans. Puck was tented through his boxers. Sam lay on top of him, flat, determined to have every bit of their skin touching as they made out. The tiled floor was cold and sterile against Puck's back, contrasting nicely with Sam's warm body and wet lips. Puck turned them over once again, nibbling the lobe of Sam's ear after. Sam was moaning, not caring if anyone could hear. Repeated low, guttural noises that only escalated when Puck's fingers trailed down his toned stomach, flipping open his belt and sliding down his boxer with his jeans to pool at his feet. Sam's cock bounced up, free from its constraint, and Puck took it all at once. Then he come up, licking circles on its head until Sam was gone, and there was just a quivering mess beneath him.

"Fuck," Sam whined, pushing Puck's head down with one hand, then clenching the other into a fist to bite. Puck could feel Sam's legs shake, and he increased the pace. He licked up the shaft, pulling up to jerk Sam off for a second.

"How does it feel," he growled, maintaining a slow, corkscrew motion with his hand as his face became level with Sam's.

Sam couldn't actually reply. He just let out something between a shudder and a moan. His neck was fully extended, mouth open and panting. His hands were clawed, digging at the tiles. And his eyes were as red as blood. He was sweating and shaking and downright euphoric when he came, every taut muscle pushing up against his skin, shooting his load up onto his stomach. Puck licked it up, biting at the pale white flesh as he did so. Sam was languid from his orgasm, but he still managed to switch with Puck and go down just the same. He may not have had any experience giving blowjobs, but the mere act of having lips that supple meant that he didn't need any. In just minutes of massaging Puck's balls, and sucking his dick, he had him thrusting forward to come in his mouth. He swallowed easily, climbing his way back up next to Puck's body to lay there. Sam laughed.

"Fuck," was all he could muster.

Puck turned to face him, still panting like he'd just run a marathon. He stared into Sam's eyes, now littered with red flecks just like him, and he grinned. "Fuck," Puck agreed.

The debauching was a success. I could tell when they pulled up their jeans and slid their arms through the holes in their shirts. Sam was aura was gone – replaced, with mine. The change was palpable. His smile was still there, but if you looked for long enough you would be able to tell it was threatening and dangerous. Puck slowly unlocked the closet, poking his head out into the hallway, surreptitiously walking out. Sam followed seconds later, closing the door behind him. In hindsight, the circumstance and surroundings should have warranted less noise, but either people didn't hear or they didn't care. There were classes right now anyway, so the hallway should be empty. There was only one person in sight, and they stalked forward like a bird of prey.

"Well, well, well," Karofsky said. He grinned, looking over the two boys with one cursory glance. He was able to piece together what had happened in seconds. Neither of the two wore an expression, and just entertained Karofsky's attack. "You two fags just get off in the closet? That's ironic." He laughed, staring down at them like they were kids who were caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

Puck looked around the hallway to check if any stragglers had resurfaced. Karofsky smirked, believing him to be scouting out of fear. Instead, Puck confirmed the lack of witnesses and punched him square in the jaw. The force of the blow knocked Karofsky backwards, and before he even had time to swallow the blood in his mouth Sam's knee was at his groin. He doubled over on the floor, eyes watering, as Sam delivered a final blow, his heel right in the square of homophobe's back, and he slumped on the floor. They didn't even check to see if he was still conscious as they dragged him into the janitor's closet, leaving him to regain in senses amidst the smell of the sex they just had.

That was an incredibly proud moment for me. I hadn't possessed teenagers for so long that I forgot why they're different. They're not adults, who have pretty much defined themselves already, and not children, who barely even know how to speak their own name. They're growing, changing, welcoming, with new feelings and experiences and using them to mould themselves into shape. Only this time, these two will be moulding _me_ into the very fibre of their being. And when they have grown out of pubescence, I won't need to constantly look over them – they'll be as much of me as I am of them. They are already starting to, considering I had minimal involvement in kicking the shit out of that Karofsky kid. By the looks of it he did deserve it, though. Nearly everyone deserves a good bashing once in a while.

They walked down the hall and turned a corner, and that's where I get bored. The next couple of hours is usual school stuff, and they avoid doing the work for most of their classes. It's at the end of the day, when Puck is getting all his stuff from his locker, that I have to be on guard.

That girl, Mercedes I think her name was, walks over to him and stares him down. Puck really isn't perturbed by her contempt, and continues packing his things until he wraps his bag around his shoulder and leans against his locker door.

"What do you want, Effie," he said, not even looking her in the face.

"I know what you did," she said. Her words are concentrated, deliberate, and threatening. It startles Puck a little, but he doesn't let it show. Instead he rounds his head and gives her a condescending look.

"And what is it that I have done?" He asked.

"Don't act like you don't know." The white specks in her eyes glow, so much that it's nearly blinding. "You corrupted one of my people."

Puck slammed his locker door shut with a laugh, eyes glowing a fantastic red in return. "Sam? He wasn't yours. Never was."

Mercedes closed the gap between them, prodding a finger at Puck's chest. "Cease. Or else you will face my mercy." Those words were not hers. They came from her mouth, her lips shaping the sounds slow and clear, but they were not hers. The voice was deep and powerful. It was God's. Mercedes turned on her heel and stormed away, the threat fresh both in Puck's mind and mine.

It wasn't too dishevelling. I just wasn't aware I was being watched. Right now, in the battleground of McKinley, I have two little devils of my own. God also had two messengers, but now there's just one that I'm sure about. I need to act quickly. I need more followers – ones that good can't touch, that can assemble and plan and not draw suspicion. God can do that easy – it's called a bloody church. Most people attend them every Sunday, ready and willing to spend two hours of their day in a boring, air-conditioner-less chapel praying to someone who has better things to do. It's socially acceptable. The second a group of Satanists congregate, on the other hand, they better prepare for social isolation.

But there is a place I've seen recently that is already a recluse from its respective world, but much less suspicious. And I think it's the perfect place to start my plan.


End file.
